


this is us colliding

by viscrael



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Established Relationship, First Time Topping, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Trans Male Character, theyre like. 20-21 in this i think, trans joey tops cis kaiba and thats basically it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: “This is nice,” Katsuya mumbles into Seto’s ear. Itisnice, this. Softer than what they normally set themselves up for. The weight of lust still sits heavy in Seto’s stomach like usual, there’s the familiar straining ache between his legs, and each second that passes only makes it a little bit closer to being unbearable, but it’s still—nice. The intimacy. The affection. It’s not something he’s ever felt with any other partner or fuckbuddy or whatever he could have called them. It’s all Katsuya. Only Katsuya.Christ. Four months and Seto’s been reduced to a romantic.





	this is us colliding

**Author's Note:**

> hi i literally havent written smut in over a year and this is purely just bc i find trans-men-topping-cis-men fics to be v v good but unfortunately there r v v few of them :( theres also VERY little trans man joey content which ! is a gotdamn shame. so here i am delivering
> 
> im so sorry for everything abt the way this is written its 2 am almost 3 am and i have school tmrrw (today technically lol) blease excuse typos

“Just tell me when.”

“When,” Seto deadpans. The effect is lost, however, because of the involuntary breath he sucks in when Katsuya inches his hips forward a second later. He freezes at the response, hovering over Seto, who grabs the back of Katsuya’s neck and pulls him down, their faces now inches apart.

“Shit,” Katsuya curses. His arms are braced on either side of Seto. “You want me to stop?”

“No. Just…slower.”

“You’re sure? I don’t wanna—”

“You’re not going to _hurt_ me,” Seto snaps, although, truth be told, he’s already hurting a little bit. Not from the intrusion, no, but from the way his legs are bent back, in missionary position because Katsuya wanted it to be— _special_ this time. “This time” meaning Seto’s first time bottoming for Katsuya. Not bottoming in general, but—for Katsuya. And, well. It’s been...a while since he hasn’t topped. He forgot how uncomfortable the motions pre-actually-fucking can be. It makes him feel like a pretzel, his knees to his chest. Somehow this feels less dignified than from behind.

Maybe that’s hypocritical of him. After all, he can’t say he’s ever minded this position when it was _Katsuya_ under him, shaking with long-awaited orgasm or fond laughter (because even during sex Katsuya can’t deny an opportunity to tease Seto). And, despite the stretching, Seto guesses he can see the appeal to it: Katsuya’s arms on either side of his head, their faces inches away from either, close enough to smell the mint mouthwash he uses and count his eyelashes one by one, close enough to inevitably lean up for a drawn-out kiss, sweet or sultry or somehow both—it’s not a bad result by any means.   

And besides, even if there weren’t that appeal, he can’t imagine saying no to Katsuya on this. He wants this on his terms, this first experience. It’s an idea they haven’t thrown around for too long, but one that he was evidently sitting on for months, maybe years, beforehand; it just wasn’t until a few weeks ago that Katsuya admitted his interest in topping Seto, and then another week before he revealed he’d ordered a harness and dildo online.

Well, Seto says “dildo,” but he’s not sure what it’s really called; he only knows that it’s something similar. The difference might lie in the target audience, or maybe it lies in the appearance. He can’t say he’s seen that many dildos in person before, but the first thing he noticed when Katsuya unpacked it was how much more lifelike this one looks than the ones he’d seen in images of women in leather and harnesses standing over their husbands or boyfriends.

Lifelike. And, Seto thinks, very suiting for his boyfriend. Katsuya looks good in it. After he slid the harness up, Seto couldn’t help but stare for a second, marveling at what the presence of the toy means, and what it adds. Seto loves any and all kinds of sex with Katsuya, and there’s no way he’d purposefully wish away the equipment they’re already working with, but the image of Katsuya standing naked in Seto’s bedroom, erect, even if only with a prosthetic, was equal parts novel and alluring.

“Defensive,” Katsuya says, a grin tugging at his lips. He—slowly—moves his hips back, leaving Seto feeling a little bit of that emptiness, just enough to make the subsequent push in enticing. “You don’t have to be weird ‘bout it. I know this is new for, uh...both of us.”

“You don’t have to be weird about it either,” Seto says. Then, the thrust in, gentler than the last person he bottomed for being with him. After four months of dating, he shouldn’t be surprised by Katsuya’s tenderness, but it’s still startling sometimes, the care with which he’s treated—the look his boyfriend gives him now, while they’re talking in the middle of what should be, maybe, wild and passionate and silent-except-moans Sex, capital included.

Regardless of Seto’s surprise, the tenderness persists. Katsuya lets them pause there a moment, inside Seto, letting him get used to the feeling, or maybe just enjoying having all the control. “What do you mean?”

“You’re worried you won’t be good at it,” Seto says. “Fucking, I mean.”

“ _Topping_ ,” Katsuya corrects. As if to take away from the admission, he grins impishly. “We both know I’ve got no reason to be insecure about any _other_ parts of it.”

“You don’t have any reason to be insecure about this part, either.” The hands on Katsuya’s neck find their way up until his fingers are threaded in bleached blonde hair. Seto scratches his nails against Katsuya’s scalp, an offering of comfort that he’s not sure he would ever admit to out loud.

“Weren’t you scared the first time too?”

“Not really.” Seto’s “first time” was frantic and inexperienced and lackluster on both their ends. His _partner_ of the time—because they weren’t boyfriends, not really, but he couldn’t say they were friends with benefits either because that implied a relationship that subsisted off anything separated from carnal desire—had left afterward just as oddly unfulfilled as Seto. “It…comes natural.”

“For _you,_ maybe.” As they were talking, Katsuya had pulled slowly out another time, and now he punctuates what would otherwise be the beginning of an emotional conversation with another thrust in, surer this time, like he’s finally getting the idea, or maybe like he finally thinks Seto will enjoy it.

It doesn’t sting or hurt like Katsuya was scared it would. Seto’s releases Katsuya’s hair, sliding his hands back down to his neck, then his shoulders, broad and tan and rough, lingering there over the skin. Katsuya repeats the rhythm experimentally, watching Seto’s reaction.

“That alright?”

“Of fucking course it’s alright.”

He laughs and hides the smile in the crook of Seto’s shoulder, set to that rhythm. A kiss is placed on Seto’s neck, below his ear, scruff tickling him because Katsuya never remembers to shave.

“This is nice,” Katsuya mumbles into Seto’s ear, and the breath is hot there. He rolls his hips tentatively, like he’s not sure exactly if that’ll feel good or what, and keeps going with the kisses, each one a whisper of something.

It _is_ nice, this. Softer than what they normally set themselves up for. The weight of lust still sits heavy in Seto’s stomach like usual, there’s the familiar straining ache between his legs, and each second that passes only makes it a little bit closer to being unbearable, but it’s still— _nice_. The intimacy. The affection. The genuine warmth. It’s not something he’s ever felt with any other partner or fuckbuddy or whatever he could have called them. It’s all Katsuya. Only Katsuya.

Christ. Four months and Seto’s been reduced to a romantic.

He slides his legs around Katsuya, hooking his ankles over his back to pull him down further. “You’re doing well.”

“Yeah?” It’s obvious what the praise means to him, even in that one word.

“You’d do better if you sped up.”

Katsuya snorts. “Is that your way of telling me you’re tired of us fuckin’ like an old married couple?” Even as he asks it, he picks the pace up, the steady in-and-out quickening, only marginally at first, then approaching what the desperate feeling in Seto’s stomach needs to be satiated, then not approaching it quick enough, then just chasing the feeling again, until Seto’s sliding his hands from Katsuya’s shoulders to wrap around him, pulling at his back.

“More,” he grunts, with only minimal self-awareness for how he sounds. He’d be more worried about how embarrassing the obvious desperation in his voice is, if not for the building feeling in his stomach and the fact that he can feel Katsuya’s breath on his neck between faint kisses pressed there: uneven, heavy. It just makes Seto long even more for that expected roughness, the feeling.

It’s stupid, how little Katsuya can do and still have Seto ache like this.

Back and forth: the only sound from there on skin against skin and breathing picking up and any quiet noises Seto can’t keep under control or the less-subtle ones Katsuya is never ashamed to make. He grunts, huffs something, mumbles a phrase like _feels good_ or _‘s that alright?_ or just plain _fuck_ , each under his heavy breaths. That’s always been a turn on for Seto, the under-his-breath things Katsuya says, so much so that he used to find himself daydreaming about it back when they were still teenagers, imagining the frustrated groan and _goddamn_ Katsuya would say without thinking in another context completely.

Back and forth. In, out. The air in Katsuya’s apartment bedroom is warm with them, and the bed moves as they do, the same rhythmic bonking against the wall it’s pressed up against. Seto thinks about Katsuya’s neighbors, the ones who always play their music too loud and come home late, and he wonders if they’re up right now and if so, if they can hear the slick skin-on-skin, the “Getting close?” Katsuya says with an affectionate but self-satisfied grin in his voice, the bedframe still knock-knock-knocking against the wall, louder with each succeeding motion, an obvious build up. He doesn’t wonder if they know of the nod he gives in response, and he can’t even focus enough _to_ wonder if they hear him nearly shout when Katsuya strokes him through his climax, never pausing the thrusts.

Katsuya pulls out and leans down to capture Seto’s mouth in a deep kiss in the same motion. Seto kisses back as he comes down from his orgasm, catching his breath and becoming reacquainted with the feeling of being empty once again.

The dildo, slick still with lube, presses uncomfortably into his thigh because of the way they’re positioned. He frowns. “Did you come?”

“Not yet,” Katsuya admits.

“Get out of that and come here.”

Katsuya has to remove himself from their mess of tangled limbs, unfortunately, but it only takes him a moment to get out of the harness. He grabs a few tissues from his bedside table while he’s up, wiping off cum from his hand and Seto’s abdomen without being asked. Once the tissue is in the trash can, he gets back into bed, this time moving the covers as if to get them both under it to cuddle, but Seto shakes his head and motions towards his face.

“You didn’t come,” he says when Katsuya only looks at him.

“What, you want me to sit on your face?”

“That’s the idea.”

Katsuya follows the command from there without question. As he’s situating himself, steadied with his hands on the same headboard they’d just made shake, Seto says, “You did well topping.”

“I’d hope so,” Katsuya says, “considering that’s—ahhh, _fuckin’ Christ_ I forgot how good you are at this...”

He must have been still worked up from before because it only takes a minute or two before Katsuya is gasping again, loud whines then moans then full-body shaking that he rides out, and Seto doesn’t pull his tongue away until Katsuya is twitching and sensitive and pulling himself off of Seto. Post-orgasm, they collapse under the covers together, exhausted.

“Do you seriously think I did good?” Katsuya asks. They’re facing each other, legs tangled and chests pressed as close as possible despite the heat in the room. “Even though that was my first time ever doin’ anything like that?”

“I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t.”

“Guess that’s true.”

He bites his lip. Seto leans forward and kisses it because he can and he wants to. It turns into a small make out session before Katsuya finally pulls away again. He draws patterns on the dip of Seto’s collarbone, lazy shapes that might form words. “Can we do that again sometime?”

Seto doesn’t have to think about it. “Yeah.” And he lets himself smile. “Yeah, we can.”

**Author's Note:**

> abrupt ending bc its Too Late to form coherent thoughts but i wanted to get this uploaddeddd


End file.
